


Ostinato Figure

by rosa_himmelblau



Series: The Swiped from rheasilvia Live Journal 2009 Crossover Challenge [2]
Category: The X-Files, Wiseguy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27211825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_himmelblau/pseuds/rosa_himmelblau
Summary: With Sonny preparing for WitSec, Vinnie's in protective custody.
Series: The Swiped from rheasilvia Live Journal 2009 Crossover Challenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731601





	Ostinato Figure

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody asked for this. Well, maybe Vinnie did.

Three twenty-something in the morning, and if Vinnie hadn't already been awake, he never would have known Frank was in the house. Well, at the front door. Frank was whispering, but Frank's whisper was like a cheese cutter, it sliced through your head without seeming to be loud or anything. Frank was arguing with Special Agent Mulder, who seemed like the kind of guy who'd be steamrolled right over by Frank, but Mulder was showing unexpected backbone.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you're not authorized to be here," Mulder said quietly.

"I am a federal agent of the FBI!" Frank whispered ominously, and Vince put his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. "A federal agent of the FBI, Frank? As opposed to some other kind of agent of the FBI?" Frank couldn't hear him, of course; Vince was standing in the hall, shielded by the wall. This was sort of like watching his parents fight, only fun.

Mulder didn't crack a smile. "I understand, sir, but there are protocols--"

"Protocols?? I outrank you!"

"Well, not really," Mulder said, sounding sad that he had to be the one to break this news to Frank. "I was put in charge here, and I report to Walter Skinner, so unless you can prove that you've been sent by him, you really have no authority--"

"No authority!!" Frank hissed. "You let me in this house right now, before the neighbors notice something hinkey going on!"

"My assignment is to keep my charge safe from anyone who might want to harm him. I'm not allowed to let in anyone who hasn't been cleared--"

"I'm his goddamned field director! It's **my** job to keep him safe!"

"Not right now it isn't," Mulder said, with just the faintest hint of steel in his voice. "I have no way of knowing what your intentions are--"

Vince was afraid of what Frank might do at that moment. He wouldn't let himself yell, and he probably wouldn't hit Mulder, so that left repressing his anger, which was likely to rupture a blood vessel or ten. So he came around from behind the wall and said, "You can let him in, Mulder. He's not going to kill me until after I testify. Then all bets are off."

Mulder started to say that Vince didn't have the authority to let Frank in either, but that distracted him just enough for Frank to push him out of the way and close the door.

"Hey, Frank. How's it going?" Vince asked.

Frank gave him a poisonous stare.

Vince sighed. "OK, so what's the matter?"

"I need to talk to you. In private."

"No," Mulder said at once. "That's not happening."

Frank turned on him. "They already keep you in the basement of the Hoover Building! What more do you think they can do to you if you let two federal agents talk to each other?"

"That's not the point," Mulder said, all trustworthy and woebegone. Frank might just as well have called him Spooky.

Frank either didn't notice or didn't care. "He's safer with me than he is with you anyway," he added. "He's not going to be abducted by little gray men."

There was something about how Frank got it right--calling them little gray men instead of little green men--that seemed to completely deflate Mulder. "Do whatever you want," he said defeatedly, and left them alone.

"What's the matter with you?" Vince asked sharply. "He's a nice guy, you didn't have to--"

"Your pal Steelgrave is playing games," Frank said.

"What kind of games?" Vinnie asked. "You want something to eat?"

"No," Frank said, but Vince did, so he went to the kitchen, leaving Frank to follow along.

While he was making two peanut butter sandwichs, Frank told him about how he'd been the one left to guard Sonny, and how Sonny wouldn't talk to him.

"Frank, you just gotta know how to talk to him. Make like you're interested and he'll--"

"No, you don't understand. It wasn't that he wouldn't answer my questions. He wouldn't speak to me at all! And when I tried to get some help in getting him to cooperate, he acted like I was just making it all up! He did it to me twice!"

Vince thought about that singing, dancing frog that would only sing and dance for his owner, who always ended up going mad trying to make a fortune off a frog that would only sit there when other people were around. Yeah, that sounded like Sonny. Vinnie didn't smile.

"Frank, what do you want me to do about it?" Vince asked. He got the milk carton out of the refrigerator and poured himself a glass. "Are you sure you don't want any?" he offered. "Maybe it would help with your ulcer."

"I don't have an ulcer--yet," Frank snarled. Vince shrugged and went to put the milk away. "Where's your food?" Frank asked.

"What?"

"Your refrigerator is empty," Frank said.

"No, it's not." Vinnie opened the door again to show him. "We've got eggs, and hotdogs, and mustard, and milk. And in the freezer, we have ice cream. And ice."

"What in the world to you make with eggs and hotdogs?" Frank asked as though he didn't really want to know.

"With the eggs, we make eggs," Vince explained slowly. "And with the hotdogs, we make hotdogs, which we put on buns and put mustard on."

Frank was now walking around the kitchen, checking the contents of the cabinets. "Bread, peanut butter, hotdog buns, coffee, sugar. This is it? This is all the food you have?"

"What's wrong with it?" Vince asked.

"What's wrong--" Frank echoed. Then he shook himself and went back to his original complaint. "They all think I'm crazy! Elias, everybody! They think I've been working too hard, that I'm suffering from some sort of stress fatigue. Pretty soon my reputation's going to be worse than Mulder's!"

"Hey, leave Mulder alone," Vince said. "So he's got some whack-job theories, he's not hurting anyone."

Frank sighed. "I'm sorry. You're right, Vince. I just can't believe I handled this so badly."

"You didn't handle it badly. You and Sonny just don't get along." Frank was glowering at him. " **What**?" Vinnie asked, aggrieved.

"You're taking his side!"

"Taking whose side?" Vinnie asked, baffled.

"Steelgrave's! We 'just don't get along,'" Frank repeated, mocking Vinnie's tone. "He's a criminal!"

"Yeah, he's a criminal we want to cooperate with us. And you don't like him and he doesn't like you--which is kind of weird, now that I think about it."

"What is weird about me not liking criminals?" Frank asked. He was starting to get hungry, Vince could tell by the way he was watching him eat.

"Nothing," Vince said, pushing the second sandwich towards Frank. "What's weird is how personally you dislike Sonny. Wha'd he do, run over your dog or something?"

"There's nothing personal about it," Frank said insistently. He was being stubborn, ignoring the sandwich.

"You act like it's personal. Did you run over **his** dog?"

"Did I--" Frank's back was ramrod straight, and indignation radiated from him: the indignation of a dog-lover who had been accused of running over a dog."

"Sorry, Frank," Vince muttered.

"I don't like criminals," Frank said in a way that closed the subject. He was still ignoring the sandwich, so Vinnie reached for it. "What are you doing?" Frank asked.

"Not a thing," Vince said, watching Frank pick up the sandwich and start to eat. Maybe he'd ask Sonny about it, if the right time ever came up. After a minute he got up and poured Frank a glass of milk.


End file.
